


Poppies Bloom

by Dihydrogen



Category: Toontown Online
Genre: Angst, Letters, M/M, Tragedy, War, romantic tones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dihydrogen/pseuds/Dihydrogen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the surface, Toontown is an idyllic world where fun comes before all, and citizens live in a state of suspended bliss. Beneath the appearance of rolling hills and lazy rivers, the looming threat of a rising Cog Nation weighs heavy on the minds of Toontown's citizens. The Toon Resistances' growing need for soldiers in the war against the cogs results in an ever increasing draft that pulls toons from their homes.</p><p>Phineas and Gene are a young couple who find themselves separated by the war. After being summoned to duty, Finny leaves their quiet riverside cottage. Gene finds himself struggling to emotionally cope in the wake of the separation, and must eventually come face-to-face with the harsh realities that war brings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Duchess "Professor" Tinkersprinkles (@toontownduchess on Tumblr!) for being my beta.  
> Without much further ado, I hope you enjoy!

June 9th, 2004  
Dear Gene,

  
It's been two weeks since I saw you last. Why does it feel like it's been so long already? When I arrived at Resistance HQ in Toontown Central, they wasted no time putting us to work on bogus training regiments. Now, the stair steps aren't so hard- my legs are strong enough for that. But the lifting we have to do? Crazy! Makes me think of all those times you told me I ought to work out when we would arm wrestle. Apparently this is all in the sake of being able to handle our gags- but really, how many muscles does it take to throw a pie?? At any rate, I'm sure the next time I see you I'll be able to give you a run for your money. I'm getting pumped, I swear! (Oh, who am I kidding. My arms are as noodle-y as ever!!)

  
Toontown Central is a really charming place though- I hope one day we can visit it together. It's been so close all this time, I can't believe we've never been. The streets are so lively, the toons so happy, and the sky always seems to be so blue. At night the whole place is lit up with the warm light of lanterns- I'd like to dance with you under them, even though I know you would complain about having two left feet (even if it's true). How are things at home? Good, I hope. Don't forget to water the flowers and feed Petunia.

  
Missing you,  
Finny

* * *

 

Gene stared at the letter, raking his eyes over the words again and again. He and Phineas had been stunned when the draft notice came in the mail. They had known that the Resistance was increasing the draft, but had never expected it to reach them on their cozy riverbank. It had only taken one day for Finny to pack, and one more for Gene to see him off at the train station. The house felt as if the life was leeching out of it, the longer Finny was gone. Even Petunia seemed to be downtrodden, waiting faithfully at the door day after day to be greeted only by disappointment. Gene folded the letter and set it in his desk drawer.

"Petunia," he called, and the magenta doodle came bounding into the room. Petunia launched herself onto Gene's lap, tongue lolling and flopping over Gene's shorts. He grimaced, but gave the doodle a scratch nonetheless.

  
"It's a good thing your Da reminded me to feed you, eh?" he said, smirking to himself and picking Petunia up under his arm.

  
"Alright, let's go put some jelly beans in your bowl, you little money drain."

  
Shortly after feeding Petunia, the phone began to ring where it rested on its hook. Crossing the foyer, Gene answered,

  
"Hello?"

  
" 'Ey-o, Gene-o" the voice on the other end was high and trilling, with a quirky accent that tilted upwards on the ends.

  
"Fireball! Hey man, what's up?"

"Oh ya, nothin' much. Called to tell ya they want ya for a match down at the Racks on Sunday"

There was a pregnant pause before Gene replied, "Sunday? Who the hell comes to a match on Sunday?"

"Oh well, ya know, it's for the big bosses. Your opponent'll be ol' Stinky Ned."

"How much is the pot?"

"Oh, about 700 jellybeans or so. Ya in?"

"Yeah, tell 'em I'm in."

"Will do mate. Hows the 'ol house doin? I know ya must be pretty lonely now that ya boy has got'n called off by the big guys."

Gene paused again, rubbing the phone cord between his fingers, "It's okay. I'm okay. Thanks for asking man- listen, I've got to let you go now."

"Aye. I'll see ya on Sunday."

"Yeah, bye"

"Bye"

Gene replaced the phone and gave a hefty sigh. Petunia had wandered into the room and settled on his feet. He looked down at her and said,  
"I wish I could just sleep until he gets home."

* * *

 

Sunday evening greeted Gene with a right hook to the eye, a left jab to the rib, and a pocket that felt 700 jellybeans fuller. He was in the locker room with his head rolled forward as he held an icepack to his swelling eye. His fur was still damp with sweat, his fists still wrapped in gauze and tape, his breathing still heavy, and adrenaline still washing away his thoughts and feelings.

"You really went ham on Ned, man.” a figure leaning in the doorway remarked.

Gene glanced up, flashing a toothy-grin "Hey, Guy."

Guillaume sauntered into the room, "But you can always count on Ned to get in a few good licks, eh?"

"True enough," Gene replied straightening his back and wincing slightly at the pain in his rib.

 

"Think he cracked it?"

"Nah, one more slugger and he might have, though."

Gene stood and clasped Guillaume's hand pulling in and and patting his back. They chatted for a while before Guy dismissed himself, turning and walking back the way he came. Gene stood in the empty locker room and he could hear above him the sound of a crowd shouting down the next fight, the air conditioner, the continuous ticking of a clock on the wall. In his mind the letter began to resurface, and he turned to his locker where he kept a pen and paper, and began to write back.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Wilbur (@toontown-consumed-soul on tumblr) for beta-ing this chapter for me.

June 18th, 2004  
Dear Gene,

I received your letter! I was pretty excited to get it. Maybe more than 'pretty'. I might have squealed a little. Some of my fellow soldiers are calling me Pansy. It's no big deal. I'm glad your fight with Ned went well- though, obviously not too well since you seem to have gotten some blood on the paper. Remember to take proper care of your injuries because I'm not there to help you. Also don't get blood on the paper, you gross freak!

I resent that comment about my mother's fruitcake. Be nice and just let her make it for you. You can use it to decorate the guest room. Please don't eat it though, I'd be heartbroken if I heard you met the same fate as poor Uncle Blinky. As far as things here, they are going alright. They let us get our hands on actual gags a while ago- though I'm only sporting a fruit pie and a water gun right now. Unsurprisingly, these gags don't really make you feel confident when you're up against a mass of metal. Still, I'm getting along alright. I've made a friend, her name is Skids Nickledoodle. As I'm sure you can imagine, we call her Skids for short. I think you would like her, she's spunky and reminds me of you in some ways. Mainly how stubborn she is. Actually, that's entirely why.

In the evenings after we return to our barracks, if I have time, I like to practice my dancing. I don't know how long I'll be here, but once I'm discharged I would like to go back to my dance company, of course. I've actually grown a few spectators, and I've taken to teaching them the basics. It's a nice way to get my mind off of fighting. The higher-ups around here have started talking about leaving Toontown Central. "If you do well," they say. Part of me doesn't want to do well. I feel like each step I take is one step farther from home. I suppose I'm not entirely wrong about that feeling, am I?

Give Petunia a few extra treats for me, and you go out for a nice meal.

Thinking of you,  
Phineas

* * *

  
Gene was standing in front of the mirror, attempting to adjust the poorly knotted tie around his neck. "You stink!" he muttered to himself as his fingers stumbled over the satin. After a few moments he gave up trying, folding the collar of his yellow button-up back into position.

"Whatever!"

He exited into the bedroom and crossed over to his closet, where he retrieved a blue suede jacket. He looked it over, noting the frayed edges of the sleeves, the slightly fading color on the elbows, and the small stain on the collar. It was good enough. Into the inside pockets he placed the dinner invitation that he received in the mail, and in the other Phineas' latest letter, close to his heart.

"Petunia!" he called, and the doodle energetically emerged from beneath his bed where she had been resting.

"Well, how do I look?" he inquired.

Petunia moved to sit on his feet, wagging her tail and twitching her ears. A thread of drool dripped off her tongue onto Gene's shoes.

"You're right," He nodded sagely, "I should go with the brown shoes instead."

Gene made his way to the garage after changing his shoes and filling Petunia's food bowl. The convertible inside was old, with worn seats and a mottled exterior that had been the product of Phineas being conned into a bad paint job. He had been sitting on the front porch swing when Finny had rolled up with their car painted uneven in shades of green and taupe. Phineas had bristled from head to toe when Gene had burst into laughter.

"He was very, convincing, okay?"

Gene bit down on the inside of his cheek and let the memory slip away.

He took a few moments to wrestle the top of the convertible down before climbing inside and turning the key in the ignition. Their driveway lead into a winding path before coming to an intersection where the dirt road followed the hills into the horizon in either direction. Briefly there was another flash of memory- left, driving into town in the passenger's seat, wind, an impromptu picnic after a blowout. Phineas' eyes as blue as day. Gene felt his throat tighten and he once again shook the memory away. He turned right. It was about ten miles before the road split again, and only two miles more before he found his car bouncing into a gravel driveway.

Phineas' parent's house was stately, with bright blue siding and large windows framed with immaculate white shutters. As Gene parked and clambered out of his car, a woman standing on the porch leaned over the railing and waved.

"Gene," she called out, smiling.

"Hey, Poppy," Gene responded, bounding up the steps.

The yellow rabbit, who easily stood two feet taller than Gene himself, bent down to take him into her arms.

"It's so good to see you!" She crooned.

Gene returned the embrace and said, "Yeah. Good to see you too."

"I was just watering the Laff-o-dils, you can head on inside."

Gene nodded and moved through the door. As he made his way down the short entry way, he could hear other toons chatting. The foyer opened into a brightly decorated living room where several toons were already milling about and chatting in groups. A few of them waved at him when he entered, and he lifted his hand in greeting while he made his way towards the kitchen.

Phineas' father, Rocco, was in the kitchen with a bright yellow apron tied around his neck. He didn't notice Gene entering until the swinging door let out a loud creak. He turned on his heel, and Gene's mouth quirked involuntarily when he saw the rabbit's face coated in flour. Around him, the cabinets and counters were in a similar state.

Rocco opened his mouth to speak, but the words that came out were indistinguishable.

Gene shrugged, "Sorry, I can't understand you."

Rocco paused and blinked, then said "Sorry!"

Gene waved it off, moving around the island to see the source of the flour.

"Would you like some help?" he asked dubiously, slightly prodding a large bowl full of some kind of purple goop.

Rocco chattered nervously before replying, "No, thank you."

Gene was about to ask again, but just before he could, Poppy came boisterously through the kitchen's swinging door.

"Honey, have you finished the ca-" she stopped dead when she saw the state of the kitchen.

"Rocco!" She exclaimed, eyes popping, "how did you even manage this?"

Rocco gave another nervous laugh and spoke, but once again Gene couldn't distinguish his words. Poppy was starting to hiccup with laughter and she moved forward to swing her husband into an embrace. Gene silently moved behind them and slid out the door. With a hefty sigh he shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and tried to banish the envy curling in the pit of his stomach. He moved back through the living room towards the bar that separated it from the dining room.

On the bar there were several pitchers, and Gene settled for pouring himself a tall glass of lemonade. He took a seat at one of the stools wedged partially in the corner and watched people mill about the living room for a bit. After a few minutes of glum staring, a voice spoke near his ear.

"Hello."

When he turned to look, a pink cat he vaguely recognized as a member of Phineas' dance company crossed in front of him and gingerly took a seat at the stool next to him.

"Hello?" He said tentatively, unused to being able to immediately understand someone he had never met before.

When the cat opened her mouth again and only noises came out, Gene shook his head.

"Sorry, I can't understand you," he explained, "I can only use SpeedChat."

The cat looked surprised, and after a moment she said, "Ok."

"Pleased to meet you," Gene said, extending his hand cordially.

"Yes," she agreed.

Gene glanced at his drink, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the glass. The woman seemed to be struggling to find something to say that he could understand.

"How are you doing?" He interjected after the awkward silence grew too much to bear.

After a beat or two, she responded with "I'm chomping at the bit!"

"Huh?" Gene asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm hungry" she said with a smile.

Gene returned her smile halfheartedly and said, "Me too."

The silence began to creep up again, but suddenly the woman cocked her head to the side. Across the room, a green dog that he had never met was waving at her.

She turned back to him and said, "Sorry! I need to go."

Gene just nodded and turned away from her. She rose and left, and it was as if she had taken his energy with her. He turned forward and rested his head on the bar. His mind was swirling with memories of parties just like this one. Phineas and himself would sit side by side on the couch, and he would press his head into Finny's shoulder and listen to the way he would animatedly talk. How the other toons would chat with Gene in the limited way they could, if only because Phineas was insistent upon it.

Without Finny here he didn't belong. The voices around him seemed to be growing in volume, a cacophony of noises that were unreadable and indistinguishable. He pressed his palms over his ears and wished that the world would end.


End file.
